Hunters Bane
by Germanys-pasta
Summary: John Egbert is a young vampire prince, kept shielded from the world by his caretaker Jake English, as according to his father's dying wish. But when John is targeted by the same paranormal hunters that wiped out his clan, how is Jake to keep him safe from a threat he has no way of tracking down? Especially when the threat might be a lot closer to home than he ever thought.
1. Chapter 1

John always knew he was spoiled; only he didn't usually recognize it. He usually didn't see how other people lived due to Jake's strict rule on staying indoors at all times. Even at night when the moon seemed to be screaming at John to leave the constricting walls of the mansion; unfortunately he would be in deep trouble if he should leave. however, he did manage to slip out of the threshold, out of Jake's watchful eye; one cool spring night. It had to have been three years ago, back when he was smaller, thirteen? Fourteen?

Either way, it was a pitch black night, and the night sky devoid of the moon's pale glow. John could feel the thrill of the new scents, sights and sounds, adrenaline begin to course through his veins, making his heart pound and his senses sharpen, everything suddenly so much more vivid.

His stomach growled and a new scent began to drift to his nose lazily, taunting him with a seductive purr. John felt his mouth begin to water as he turned his eyes to the road that curled down to the gate; the entrance to the manor. At the gate stood what appeared to be a woman, with long dark locks that cascaded over her shoulders and curled near her hips. Her eyes were a stunning green as she scribbled down a few things on a notepad, looking up only to study a violet flower just within the confines of the gate.

She smelled of greenery and blossoms, the creamy white of her skin was tantalizing as John ran his tongue over his lips. It was impossible to tell if he had been this hungry before, but now all he could focus on was the hollowness below his ribs. The darkness was pierced by the light that shone through his eyes, a brilliant red that only flickered with his occasionally blink.

The grass was silent as his feet smothered it with every carefully planned step, each stride filled with deliberateness, the swiftness that only the greatest predator known to man could hold. The distance between himself and the gate shrank pathetically as he danced his way there, the scent of the woman growing stronger with every step.

To be honest John wasn't very sure what he was doing; only knowing that something was urging him to. Something deep in his gut was pushing each step he took, like magnets connecting himself and the woman; the only soul on the desolate street.

The eraser of the pencil rested against her lips as she studied the flower through her large, round glasses. A few more steps and John was already reaching a hand out to the gate, silently lifting the latch. His breath was curling around his lips, the bitter spring air frigid and icy around him.

His stomach growled viciously, hunger gnawing away at his insides as he lifted the latch to the top position. Something inside of him seemed to take over, like a fog descending over his vision as her scent continued to swirl around him. It was a welcome sensation, as he began to loose control of his movements, moving the gate open and taking a step out as though it weren't his first time doing so. It was like as though it were some sort of habitual ritual to leave his prison of a mansion; to advance out of the manor towards a woman with raven hair, porcelain skin illuminated so elegantly by the streetlamp looming over her.

Her emerald eyes were torn from the flower and turned to the gate suddenly. The woman clutched her notebook to her chest, glancing around at the place where John once stood, the gate swinging open eerily. With a stiff gulp she stood, taking a shaky step back and quickly turning and walking hurriedly away.

John however, was trapped against a nearby tree, shrouded by shadows and staring into a pair of narrowed green eyes, filled to the brim with untamed rage.

"John. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Jake growled, his voice was normally so deep and warm around him. But now it was only cold, full of venom and spitting at him so close to the red eyed boy.

"I-I..." John stammered a few different times, trying to conjure up an excuse for exiting the mansion despite Jake's explicit instructions never to. The fog seemed thicker than ever, no matter how much he wanted it to just leave. But now; it was more determined than ever as his stomach growled again.

Jake was saying something now, the streetlamp's rays didn't touch either of them here, however, John could still easily depict the curve of his neck. He was a lean man, muscles tight on his body, covered in smooth sun kissed skin. The lightweight jacket he wore was loose, leaving his neck totally exposed save for the thick cord necklace, clad with four large animal teeth. Somewhere in John's gut he felt something pushing him towards his protector, the musky scent of him already swirling around him. The smell was strong at the proximity, overwhelmingly earthly; reminiscent of the forest or petrichor.

His tongue swiped across his lips as Jake continued to say something, but everything was muffled and blurred as he leaned forward. The feel of his firm neck under John's lips was so wonderful he felt something in back of his throat rumble in appreciation. His tongue pushed out and moved against his neck quickly, wetting the skin under his mouth.

John could feel Jake's body tense under him, quickly beginning to reel back. But before he could go out of reach he shot a hand out, gripping his shoulder tightly and pulling him back flush against him.

"Please don't go, Jake!" John whimpered, looking up at him with glowing red eyes. He pushed against him a bit, batting his lashes some and running his other hand down Jake's chest. "I don't wanna be alone..."

His glare remained stern as he cringed against John's claws sinking slowly into Jake's shoulder. "John." He hissed back at him, moving a hand to grip John's wrist tightly, "we must go inside immediately." The rumble of his voice made his Adams apple bounce enticingly, John's stomach growling again loudly.

A bitter squall tousled Jake's hair suddenly, the dark locks whisking all around on his head. Yet he didn't flinch, still leveling John's flirty gaze with a glare. He pushed John's wrist against the tree, the bark scratching his fine, pale skin. The boy frowned and let his lip quiver a bit, "J-jake...?"

The emerald eyed man grimaced and quickly tossed John's other hand off, grabbing his wrist and began to haul him along behind him towards the mansion. "I told you time and time again, _never_ to leave the house." He tugged him up the trail to the towering doors of the mansion.

The manor was titanic, however eerie and mysterious with the windows dark and ominous. The wood of the door was dark and old, some places rotting and the metal of the handles rusting at the edges. As Jake pushed the door open, its hinged screamed in protest but opened up to the main room, the chandelier that hung, like a corpse on a noose, was unlit and dusty. Cobwebs were common in the house, covering the stairway and every corner like a finely set decoration. The furniture was antique, mostly molding and housing dozens of spiders of varying sizes and carnivorous tendencies.

Jake dragged John up the stairs the wound up to the second floor, pushed off to the side of the wide room. The plush carpet of the stairs cushioned the clunk of the larger man's boots against the steps. "I've told you, never to leave." He growled out again, John's 'high' was beginning to fade, leaving him slightly numb as Jake tugged him along. The buzz was still humming softly in his veins, but it was growing cold. It was as though his consciousness was beginning to turn on once more. "It's dangerous out there, John."

The familiar doorway of John's bed chambers were soon looming over them as Jake pulled the boy into the room, pausing when they had reached the middle of the lavishly furnished room. The curtains shrouding the window on the far side were swaying softly with discreet breeze, seeping in from some unknown place. Clouds, almost black as the vacant street below, were smeared across the sky by a careless hand; pushed like paint onto the midnight horizon. The gardens surrounding the mansion were disarray and wild; vines climbed the side of the house like needy hands outstretched to an unperturbed god. The grass shone with a glaze of frost, still and dead in contrast with the trees, swaying gaily in the bitter wind.

A sigh slipped off of Jake's lips as he released his death grip on John's wrists. "Don't scare me like that, ok?" The boy nodded as Jake shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't mean to be the wet blanket; but you mustn't go out." A dark hand moved up, the thin bands around his wrist jostled as he tangled his fingers in John's tangled heap of hair. "You're a very special chap, alright?" His chuckle was warm and his breath was smelled sweet, like berries with only a hint of crisp mint.

John nodded, leaning his head against Jake's palm, enjoying the warmth against his scalp. To be honest, it felt as though it were moments like these; the warm, fugacious moments he stole in the mansion with Jake; were truly all he had to live for. John had been cooped up for as long as he could remember; nothing but dusty nick-nacks and bats for company. He could vividly recall the loneliness that consumed him over the years, the hollowness that cut into his chest and hollowed him out. Nothing but a miserable shell of a boy, playing with ragged dolls already betraying their rotting stitches.

Sometimes he could remember when his dad was with him, when the mansion wasn't covered with a fine blanket of dust and grime. Back when he could skip into the kitchen and find his father with a few select servants hustling around the kitchen joyously. The sweet, sugary scent of cake or other confectionary wonders would tickle John's nose. His father's face would light up in delight when John would plunk away on the keys of the piano, successfully playing a melody they had been rehearsing for weeks. Of course his laugh was one sound John could never forget, the warm, echoing sound whenever one of his pranks went precisely according to plan. And when he died, leaving John with no one; he could feel himself sinking, shriveling back from life. The servants left soon after, leaving only empty rooms and sweeping expanses of hallways.

John waited, waited for someone to take him away, take him to wherever he was set to go. That was really all he could remember; waiting for someone, and only able to bit his lip and pretend it was ok when no one came. It truly only lasted a little over a week, possibly a bit longer; but it felt like an eternity. Every minute was unbearable, every hour was taxing; every day was driving him into madness.

It just didn't make any sense to the young boy; he didn't know much about what happened to orphaned children, but he was sure people helped them. What about him? Was he not included in the number of qualified children? He was sure his father had died; he did attend the funeral after all. John could remember the day he sat in his bedroom, tears falling numbly down his cheeks; already sure the world had deemed him worthless. He could recall the sound of the door being pushed open and a man standing there; an older teen with tousled raven hair and glowing green eyes. His clothes were simple and his words were soft as he told me in a warm, calming voice that he was going to take care of him now.

And take care of John he did; Jake had been a caring guardian for John for close to five years now; even as the boy eggs onto his sixteenth birthday he was still with him. Over the years Jake had explained he was a close friend to John's family and felt indebted to his father to take care of him. It was a generous act on the teen's part of course, to give up so much time for the young boy. Honestly John was never quite sure why he did it; why he insisted he was so special. The only thing he could think of as abnormal would be his eating habits; but Jake always reassured him it was perfectly fine.

He was always like that it seemed, caring for the boy no matter the circumstances; even though he could be a bit airheaded from time to time. John couldn't count the times that Jake had forgotten whether or not he had fed him and even himself on occasion. But he was company nonetheless; somewhat dopey company complete with a silly accent.

But there was something so much more summery about him than the stray cats that wandered the streets, stopping by John if he held out a piece of food for them. It was so much more intimate an embrace than one shared with a shrewd animal, wriggling and hissing at his touch. Jake only smiled, accepting all the curious prods and tugs at his clothes; to that day he still put up with the boy's silly antics, whether it be a childish prank or a sudden urge to snuggle up on his lap. It was as though he couldn't resist spoiling John, no matter how old he got or how silly the request was.

"Tell me, are you feeling peckish?" The man's voice drew John from his thoughts. The boy nodded, his stomach rumbling again and making him smile a bit. "I'll go get you something to sip on, alright?"

John smiled and nodded as Jake leaned in to plant a light kiss on his forehead. Then he strode out of the room easily, leaving a small trail of his scent in his wake. It was the little things; clear vision in the dark, his keen nose, the way his eyes seemed to glow, his somewhat protruding k-9s, and especially how John could make animalistic sounds such as growling or purring; it made him frown. It made him grow upset with himself; Jake did none of those things after all and he always seemed like a model normal person.

With a sigh John shuffled to his bed and sat down, the mattress sinking under him as he stared down at his pale hand. Even his skin tone bothered him; the sickly pale color it was, and how in the dark it seemed to glow against the darkness. He had labeled himself long ago as a freak; but sometimes he couldn't help but glower on how well the word fit him.

Just as he sighed and flopped back to lay; sprawled out on the jacquard, navy blue duvet; he heard Jake's voice from the kitchen. It wasn't loud of course; he definitely wasn't addressing John anyway. The crimson eyed boy raised a curious eyebrow, trying to listen a bit closer. His hearing was impeccable, of course, but it definitely wasn't as well tuned as his vision or scent capabilities.

Jake's words were smooth; normal enough, but they seemed...accented? Not his usually silly accent that made John giggle sometimes; it was something just more...predatory. Something about it made his stomach do a flip; he didn't like it. Who was Jake talking to? Why was he talking like that; that was just...weird.

The bed creaked a bit as the boy pushed himself up; tip toeing to the doorway and trying to listen in on his conversation.

"...can't!" Jake seemed to laugh a bit, even his laugh was a bit different; so much more husky. "I have to watch John, but perhaps tomorrow..." His voice dropped too low for him to hear again, making him pout a bit in frustration.

John pushed out of his room, his footsteps light as air as he crept down the stairs, pushing around the banister and towards the kitchen. The door to it was half open; a beam of light fell out of it, sprawling out on the checkered floor. He crept silently towards it, pressing his back flush to the wall as he listened intently. "Well I was entertaining the idea of it..." Jake's voice practically purred, his shadow was drawn out towards the door, outstretched towards the door. With careful steps, he peered inside, still against the wall though, stealthily glaring in at the mirror hung on the wall, giving him a view of Jake's left side. Just enough of him to note how he was leaning against the counter, one hand holding his cell phone to his ear and his mouth curled in a coy smirk. "Come now, love, I still have to tend to my little birdie here." He paused for a moment then laughed lowly, almost sultry. "Fine, fine, six o clock sharp, I won't be late." It was almost as if he forgot the recipient of the call couldn't see him, as his left eye had quickly fallen into a wink. Surreptitiously John pulled back to lean against the wall again, gulping a bit.

Something in his stomach was fluttering a bit, but at the same time something was upset, churning slowly. He bit his lip, listening closely as Jake hung up and locked his phone again, slipping it into his pocket.

With clumsy movements John stumbled back to the staircase, his stealth draining for his body as his stomach became heavier. It was as though someone was filling his gut with mercury, sloshing around and pulling him towards each of the stairs as he tried to ascend them. Its weight burdened him, making each of his steps labored, pushing himself upward was much greater a chore than ever before. His pace was sluggish and desultory, his mind still whirling with what he had heard. Something was clogging his throat now; perhaps the mercury had pushed up within him, just to choke him? John wasn't sure, all he knew was that he wanted nothing more than to deny it all; Jake was still his protector. If anything it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, perhaps some sort of mondegreen on his part.

His bed was a welcome sight as he flopped down onto the duvet, crawling up to settle amongst the luxurious pillows and curl into a ball. For a moment he sat, letting the words Jake had murmured into the phone push around in his head, his smirk still stinging his eyes and the tone still biting at his ears. John's lip quivered, he felt like a little boy again, alone and naïve. Yet he knew his protector was only down the stairs and inside the kitchen, still prepping him a meal. But he couldn't help it as his teeth began to pinch on the sensitive, plump flesh of his lower lip. The feeling of betrayal was consuming him like a disease ravaging his body. Jake wasn't really...seeing someone, was he? It didn't make any sense to him, why would he be so concerned over this? After all, Jake was almost a brotherly figure, a simple caretaker. Yet John couldn't help but find himself hoping more than anything, should it turn out that it _is_ something...romantic—the thought made him shudder—that it was only a dalliance.

"John?" Jake peered into the room, his eyes bright as ever as he smiled at him, John's bottle in hand. "I got you your favourite kind." His grin grew as he sat down beside him, looking over the boy, curled like an infant in its mother's arms. The younger party said nothing, forbearance evident in his expression, yet his sapphire eyes pushed into a glare. As per usual, his caregiver was oblivious to the source of the child's frustration and quipped, "Now, now, what's gotten your feathers bristled?"

John's mouth contorted into a pout, unable to keep up his prior stony expression with Jake's smile so warm and bright. He huffed a bit and puffed out his cheeks as he sat up quickly to swipe the bottle from Jake's hands. "Nothing." He grumbled, sitting back to push the familiar rubber tip to his lip, beginning to guzzle down the warm, thick liquid inside.

On an average day, John would have whined and fussed over having to feed from a bottle designed for infants. But on that particular evening, he didn't feel like having a small quarrel with his protector over the trivial issue that was the way he was fed. To be honest, he didn't feel like talking with Jake much at all, which was really saying something considering he was the only soul he ever spoke with. Not counting the children that knocked on the door on a dare, most of which ran away screaming should he answer the door. It was odd, in John's mind that was, he didn't think there was anything to be afraid of at the mansion. Perhaps the spiders, the ones that jumped and hopped like madmen gave even John the willies at times. But he doubted they had noticed them yet, as most of the spiders resided behind the refrigerator. Another thought was that they were afraid of him; the raven haired boy in the grey, oversized sweatshirt, a black spades symbol sewn onto the front, its sleeves and sides covered in lint balls and a few red splotches. He had always been told by Jake that his azure eyes were to be coveted, from the way they shone, vibrant and glimmering; to the way they changed to red. John left it as a mystery never to be understood.

He pushed his thoughts away as the first drops of the ruby liquid curled onto his tongue. The taste wasn't as Jake described it, to John it wasn't metallic and bitter; quite the opposite actually. To him, the taste was almost creamy, sweet and rich, it swirled and lingered on his tongue leaving a dulcet taste on his lips. The thick crimson would slide down his throat with a graceful push, moving to settle comfortably within him. By the time he would have finished off any serving of it he would be lulled into a warm silence, swimming between consciousness and sleep.

With slow movements Jake pushed away the pillows, watching John continue sucking on the bottle. The caregiver arranged the cushions again once he was nestled in beside him, an arm over his back and a warm hand on his shoulder. As was the usual routine during John's feedings, Jake would be there to hold him in a warm embrace as his alertness would leak from him steadily.

It didn't take long for him to finish off the bottle, only a few traces of red still tingling to the corners of the cylinder. The blood was settling in his stomach, filling his body with warmth like no other; dulling his senses and egging him towards a halcyon sleep. Wrapped up in Jake's arms it was far more comfortable than anywhere he could possibly imagine; his belly full and his consciousness wavering, the smell of his protector filling his lungs with each slow breath. His eye lids felt heavy as the bottle was slipped from his grasp and set on the night stand, the hand returning only briefly to push his bangs from off his forehead.

John was never sure how Jake put up with him sometimes, a spoiled child he's forced to serve. Well, not even that, he could have very well left John and put him up for adoption. Then again, the older he got the more he began to realize it perhaps wasn't due to a deal with his father or silly family responsibilities; but due to the nature of the child. The older he got the more conscious he was of the destruction he could do had he been on his own, without Jake to watch over him and keep him out of trouble. It started back when he was thirteen, realizing just how much he was capable of, nearly biting his own protector. For being a sometimes airheaded man, Jake really was intelligent; at least he raised John to be a civilized teenager that didn't go around robbing people of vital bodily fluids.

Civilized not applying, of course, to the bubbling jealousy that John felt as his protector excused himself from the bed after tucking the blankets and pillows around the boy. He kissed his forehead sweetly and left the room curtly, sweeping out of the mansion, leaving eerie silence in his wake.

The blankets tucked tightly around John gave him no heat as he pushed his gaze down to the emerald jacquard bedspread. The clock read 5:45, it made his stomach churn as he pulled a pillow to his chest, clutching it tightly. Jake was the master of forgetting, an intelligent, undeniably attractive man, but a bumbling fool when it came to being on time. Whoever he was off to meet was extremely important; important enough to watch the clock so intently. Important enough to leave before John had even fallen completely asleep.

John wasn't terribly sure if vampires were supposed to grow this attached to their protectors. Yet even if it wasn't in his nature to, he couldn't deny the bubbling feeling of jealous that ripped at his stomach. Whoever Jake was meeting, was more important than even John.

He clutched the pillow tighter, feeling the loneliness begin to hollow him out as he fell into a fitful sleep.

The following week was slow, gloomy and dark as the clouds finally released the pent up rain they contained. It didn't cease falling, not during the day, not during the night; filling the streets and flooding the garden.

* * *

Yeah sorry I haven't been on here in forever. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, I've been working on it for a while now. I apologize if the ending was a bit choppy or had some errors, my editor wasn't online to proofread that last part. Anyway, thank you for reading and I really appreciate reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Homestuck!

And to anyone who was following my previous series Hiding her Beauty, um, yeah sorry but that's discontinued Q~Q I'm super sorry, I fell out of the fandom and lost a good chunk of the chapter I was on.


	2. Chapter 2

The notebook before him was covered in sprawling, elaborate patterns, some smudged gently and some jutting out sharply. His green pen had been set aside as he glared down at the paper. The pattern revolved around a large gear, swirling out from it was clockwork, imbricated and vivid. It was truly a work of art, elegant and curling lines, pushed onto the paper only by a careful and experienced hand.

A languor hand however.

A groan rolled off his lips as he pushed the paper pad away, hissing a curse under his breath as he leaned back in his chair. The back shrieked in reply to the weight as he hooked his heel on the handle of one of the various unused desk drawers. It seemed as though he was at a loss for inspiration, a great drought of artistic creativity with no chance of revitalization for quite a while. To be honest, he had long since milked out his muses, squeezing out every drop he could and nursing it onto the page. It filled the pages of his book, page to page the pen drawings sprawled over the paper. Yet he wanted more, wanting to fill the pages with swirling, efflorescent patterns, sharp, metallic designs, and dripping, bloody sketches. He wanted people to flip through the pages with curiosity and end with cynosure glimmering in their irises. Then they'd look back up to him, pointing to the drawing and requesting it to be drawn onto their shoulder or back.

But those dreams were silly; he already had a job most seventeen year olds wouldn't dream of.

He carded his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, letting the tresses slip through his digits and fall back over his forehead. It was high time for a hair cut, but he knew that wouldn't happen anytime soon. His brother was far too busy with his new lover, too consumed with ardor to detach his mouth from the others to say so much as good night to him.

Not that he was the type to tuck him into bed every night.

…

Okay, who was he kidding? His brother regularly left notes written in elegant cursive in his lunch wishing him a good day and countless other mushy things that he felt mortified his brother could even came up with. And of course, they were all signed from mom. Poking his head in every so often around 11 at night to blow him a kiss and then slink off back to his room wasn't uncommon either.

"D-dirk-!" The cry sunk through the walls and made Dave shudder. The last thing he needed to hear was Dirk's boyfriend in a throw of passion. Not that he hadn't before, the walls in the apartment were paper thin and the simple rustle of fabric could be easily heard from the kitchen. The sound of bed springs and pants was swirling in Dave's room, and it definitely didn't belong there.

He cursed again and stood up, fisting his hand and banging on the wall, "Would you keep it down!? I'm working in here!" Dave shouted, flopping back onto his seat with a huff and glaring at the wall.

"I am too," came the muffled reply of his brother's, his voice gruff and groveling as always.

Dave groaned and fisted his hand in his hair, wishing he could block out the sounds as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was getting more and more irritating having Dirk's boyfriend around, what was his name? James? No, Jake, that sounded better. Dave didn't really care; his brother usually kept a lover for around a week then traded them out for someone more appealing. It was getting frustrating though, it had been three weeks and English was still around. The man was antagonizing, optimistic and all smiles, it was driving Dave crazy. He insisted on using ridiculous words that he likely made up, all flirted with an accent. He was lithe and muscular, just a few inches shorter than Dirk, his hair a messy heap slapped onto his scalp, his grin one of the dorkiest things Dave had ever seen. It sickened him how incredibly attractive the man was. Not that he liked him in any sort of romantic way, quite the opposite actually. He was much more of a rival to him than a crush.

With a grimace he gritted his teeth and rose from his chair, pulling on his jacket, a few holes in the sleeves but would supply adequate warmth for a quick stroll through the city. Dirk and Dave had always had a close relationship for brothers, despite all of the elder's lovers. It was likely a closer bond than most siblings shared. Dave never saw it much out of the ordinary, the teasing and brawls on the rooftop seemed like healthy sibling quarrels, but perhaps when he snuck out to Dirk's room in the dead of night to curl up into his bed after a nightmare, perhaps that was odd. Perhaps more so because he had nightmares every night and every morning he would awake to Dirk's arms around him, holding him in a protective embrace.

That comfort though, had been robbed of him when Jake came along.

Dave let the door slam as he left the apartment, not bothering with a note or a goodbye, not even his phone. Dirk would know how to get a hold of him if he needed, not that he seemed to need or want to speak with him lately.

The hall was cold, desolate and blanketed in a pregnant silence. It put Dave on edge as he moved through the corridor, the gray walls pressing in upon him in pensive curiosity, whispering to him, questioning his glare that resided behind his glasses. His crimson gaze grinded from the doors to the floor, watching it roll by under his feet until he found himself free of the tension, outside the building and surrounded by cynical city folk. Their stares were reserved for their feet or the street, not bothering for one another, Dave was quite alright with this.

He let himself wander, not a thought given to where his feet took him as he passed by restaurants, where the people binged on filth slopped into a wrapper, clothing shops, where the girls fretted over pushing their tops lower and letting their skirts climb up their legs, doctors offices, where the people wept and fretted over their fates, even the tattoo parlor he passed by, not even tasking a glance to his friends as they watched him trudge past desultorily. All he focused on was the lights, watching as they flickered and fell upon one another, imbrications that danced on the street as the cars pushed by. It was nearing nightfall and the penumbras were already stretched out on the cement, corpses on a battlefield, forgotten and laid out to disappear one day.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that day, the drone of the city was dull and dead as usual. Dave experienced no twinge in his gut as he shouldered past the lifeless figures that navigated the streets daftly. He wasn't sure how long it'd been since he last took a walk around the city, he didn't necessarily care either. Despite his friends badgering to visit them at the tattoo parlor, he refused to leave the apartment, far too unmotivated to leave. Usually he left only accompanied by Dirk to work, although a good portion of the time he could only recall bits and pieces of their toils. The beginning of their work, the searching and the finding, were clear enough, however, the true labor of the tasks were hazy, sometimes entirely blotted out of memory. Once released from his trance, he could feel himself drain of his energy, teetering on consciousness as he would stumble back to Dirk's side. He knew his brother hated seeing the effects, and he'd much rather not have Dave do such work with him, yet Dave insisted upon the continuation of their methods.

Dirk Strider was indeed a master puppeteer, putting the words he needed into any forms mouth, drawing what he needed from their throats and putting into motion what he needed of their hands. His smirk was enticing and his eyes were dangerous, yet that wasn't what pulled the strings. Dave's elder brother was not like other comely men his age, he was a man of exceptional abilities. Dirk had a sort of mind control, to put it simply. For the most part, Dirk was simply an intruder of the mind, not so much the controller. On a normal occasion, Dave could expect a small word from his brother to be slipped into his brain. A mere suggestion of action, like a whisper lost amongst the storm and slipping under the waves of thoughts, the adumbrate would soon resurface, in a few short minutes. Like an echo it would resound, growing louder and louder through his head until all he could think was what Dirk had murmured into his thoughts. Total control was much different though, it was immediate and much more akin to someone leaning over to shout into Dave's ear. It was much less of a suggestion and much more of a command, an order growled into his ear by a master he could not refuse.

Dave accepted his place below Dirk, a mere sidekick to the professional of the pair. But he knew his brother would have a much more difficult time with their job should he not have him. Dave wasn't just a puppet for Dirk to manipulate and bend to his will, no, he was much more than that. He couldn't quite see like regular people, without his shades Dave was left to see much more than the average person. The strange and twisted of the world became much more visible to him, their facades melting beneath his crimson gaze. Should a being not of origin to the earth be present near Dave, he would sense it with a twist to his gut. Without his shades, the souls of all living creatures present would be displayed for them, the size and brightness varying from person to person, species to species, and creature to creature. Of course, he wasn't cursed to constantly view the souls of people and beasts without his shades, with help from Dirk he could block out his ability. Dirk usually suppressed Dave's ability after a long job, in an attempt to help him recover after a hard battle. It generally served no assistance in healing besides a slight rest of his eyes, not constantly faced with harsh bright lights and vibrant colors. But upon request Dirk would do so anyway, Dave could talk his brother into most anything if he pleaded enough.

The side effects of Dirk's 'mind suggestion' were rather heavy on the receiving end. Dave suffered through regular nightmares, leaving him trembling and petrified in the bitter embrace of darkness within his stagnant room. He didn't want his brother to pity him, or think lowly of him, but he did appreciate the affection he was spoiled with. Dirk was definitely not the warmest individual, nor the kindest; he was manipulative and somewhat wicked. But there definitely was a heart, although battered and dented; it was still beating and soft. His fingertips were always gentle when they brushed Dave's cheek and smoothed his platinum blonde hair. His grip on his hips was tender when he pulled him close; his heart beat steady and comforting as he pressed him against him. Dirk was rugged and strong, clever and sinister, but he loved his brother and would never turn him away from his duvet at midnight after a terror filled dream.

It wasn't so much that Dave had romantic feelings towards him, or that he wanted him in any other way than platonic embraces. It was more that he was far too emotionally and even mentally linked to him to be able to not be jealous when he brought home English. Despite the new face, the nightmares continued, his dreams still plagued with horrors, and when he woke there was no brush of lips at his forehead and whisper of reassurance. There was only the cold, chilling kiss of moonlight that swept over his room, slicing into the night that lay heavy there.

He hated it, he hated Jake.

Dave shook his head as a man grunted beside him, pushing past him hurriedly. With a glare he watched him shoulder his way down the road, shoving people anyway shamelessly. The blonde tilted his head, looking over his shades at the man, clad in a brown coat with shining buttons and a finely made scarf. His soul was puny for a human anyway, its light low and a sour yellow color. Dave's tongue clicked as he continued down the street, pushing his shades further up his nose unconsciously.

The paranormal being on average housed a small soul, a whisper of a flame that resided in their form. Demons were known to hold close to no soul, perhaps a flickering light of one, but hardly there at all. Werewolves held likely the largest that a supernatural being could have, nearly half that of a human.

His strides were mechanical and unconscious as he breezed through the streets. The city withered away behind him as he continued his way on the streets, winding his way through the labyrinth he lived within. The houses fell away from the image of perfection and glass and to shambles and graffiti, the windows smashed in and dogs barking viciously from an unknown place. Grass seemed to return from wherever it had been hiding from beneath the metal and cement of the city, green and dominating every yard with its dew covered blades. It was a welcome sight, despite the road being cracked and a group looking to be up to no good stood across the street.

Beneath him the sidewalk began to slope upward, curling into a hill that turned to the right sharply as he neared the crest. A rusting iron gate caught his eye as he reached the top, glancing up at the elaborate curls of metal on the door. Resting behind it loomed a mansion, a very particular sight set beside the countless houses boarded up windows and broken in doors. The mansion was dark; its walls bathed in shadows and reflected the night it sat amongst. The windows were impossible to see into; the door was old and appeared to be rotting. It was probable the mansion was once opulent and glamorous; the garden was likely tended to with the utmost care, the windows clear as crystal and the knobs polished a fine golden shade.

Dave stepped up to the gate as the wind begin to pick up, as if on cue beginning to tangle its fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling playfully on them. Behind his shades his gaze flickered down to the latch and he slowly raised his hand, letting his fingertips graze the cool metal. Something about the house sent a small shock to his stomach, something was very off about the house. The blonde gripped the latch and tugged upward, the metal shrieking in protest as he pulled the gate open, stepping back to let it swing freely.

The trail that wound up to the mansion was practically ancient, grass growing between the cracks of the cement and buds of blossoms yet to come hung sullenly on their stems. Dave glanced around the garden carefully before taking a step forward, the ground crunching under his sneaker.

The air was bitter, an ominous note sung softly as it swept by, gravitating him towards the mansion. The trail became significantly shorter as he pushed his way towards the door, its rusted knobs practically begging to be turned by a pale hand. Now really, how could he deny an old object's its dying wish?

The handle was cool, rough and crumbled slightly onto his hand as he gripped it, twisting it slowly. If anytime was the appropriate period to follow his brother's advice on never entering a potentially dangerous situation without him, now was the time. As the door squealed as he pushed it open, shrieking at him to turn back, a scent hit his nose that made his gut twist tighter than ever. Dave fell to the ground, clutching his abdomen and yelping, panting and scrambling backwards.

Whatever was in that mansion was bad news, very, very bad news.

Of all the years he had been a paranormal hunter with Dirk, he had never sensed something that strong. Nothing could possibly compare to the strength that lie dormant in that threshold. They had faced enemies of incredible evil and power, leaving the pair groveling for life and gasping for a glimmer of relief from the pain that blinded them. But when he initially sensed those beings, he wasn't left on the floor as if he had been stabbed in the gut.

He was going to investigate.

It was the perfect chance, even if he could very well get injured extremely badly; perhaps he could at least see what sort of creature it was. He was gambling it was a demon, something that spat acid and had glowing yellow eyes, perhaps pointed ears and a shriveled up tail. Whatever it was, he was going to find it.

Dave pushed himself to his feet, removing his shades quickly and clipping them to the front of his shirt. The scent made his gut twist a bit but he gulped past the pain, stepping through the doorway and taking a breath of the stale air within the mansion. Dust coated the furniture, the chandelier hung dully from above; its unlit candles had tears of dried wax on their cheeks, the wick dead eyes of a man hung long ago staring him down from his noose.

The mansion looked empty, abandoned for ages it appeared, the only inhabitants were the rats that scrambled away as he took another step. The room was silent, only the wind that howled and whined from outside audible. Dave glanced around, noticing the kitchen door that hung ajar to the left and the stairs that sat near it, the carpet there appeared trampled, the once plush fabric flattened against the wood.

The silence inside was eerie and the floor let out a whimper as he took a step in, taking a long whiff of the stale air. His gut was still curling and uncurling, but he ignored it and pushed away his ability best he could, opting to glance around in search of life. Or undead he supposed; that was always a possibility. Dave's crimson gaze raked over the room, then to the door and the stairs. It seemed off to him, the house appeared so void, the whole thing just reeked of desuetude, yet the stairs and kitchen held something, a small glow.

It was rare he saw something like that, the floor or furniture glowing, it was a somewhat odd occurrence of a creatures soul leaving behind a trace, a residue almost. It would leave a glow on items, the ground, sometimes even other people. It didn't happen often, only when the soul was large enough would it leave behind a spiritual trail. Most of the humans never grew a soul to that size; only a few ever did, not counting children of course. Human children tending to have large souls that would light up a room, leaving behind a thick trail that anyone who could see it could follow. (That was generally why children were a target for many paranormal beasts.) But, the mansion was empty, it was impossible for a soul trail to be here.

A small creak of floorboards forced Dave's head up, glaring around the room and towards the stairs. There was a glimmer of something there, a soul hiding just behind a door, its light was enormous though; a lovely red that spilled out from the door and lay comfortably on the carpet outside of its shield. Whoever was hiding there had a soul larger than Dave had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of souls living in a crowded city as he did. He relaxed slightly, there couldn't be a paranormal being here, at least none that meant harm. If anything at all, that soul belonged to a ghost of a child, still trapped in limbo and floating amongst its memories. Ghosts were hardly a threat at all, having not crossed through to receive a more physical form they're trapped in a state of confusion and disarray. Dave had never had much of an interest in ghosts, far too much hype over such boring creatures, only ever floating around to reminiscence before taking on their role as an angel or demon. Ghosts were only a moiety of a person recently past, the other piece of their being would be residing in one of their memories, only once they had traveled through their memories and found the shard would they transform into the being they'd remain for eternity.

The soul was retreating behind the door further, its light dissipating into the room and away from the entrance. Dave took a tender step forward, ready to at least inspect the mansion, perhaps find where the soul trail had come from. Despite the massive size of the soul, no ghost can leave a soul trail; once their dead, all of their soul trails fade and disappear forever.

His fingers smoothed over the wood of the railing, its surface was dented and rough, bumping along the pad of his finger. Dave pulled himself up onto the first stair, staring down at the soul trail. The trail was a gentle pink hue, pulsing gently with the heartbeat of its maker. An eyebrow was quirked as he looked closer; kneeling down now on the stair to stare down at it, noticing the pulsing of the pink was rapid, much quicker than he had initially figured. His eyes trailed up it to the landing at the end of the staircase and then to the door resting against the wall, hanging slightly ajar. A soft squeak was heard as he glared up at the door, noticing some rushed movement within.

Dave felt his own pulse quicken as he rose to his feet, ready to push off the stair and charge into the room. Just as he had sprung up a few stairs, he felt his muscles lock up, sending him sprawling onto the stairs.

**Get your ass back here.**

That was Dirk. Definitely Dirk.

Dave groaned in pain as he pulled his arms up to drag himself back to his feet. Stumbling a bit, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs where he sighed. Whatever it was in that room had to wait, because before he knew it, he was already walking out of the mansion; and not on his own accord. Usually Dirk would leave a suggestion, let Dave get back to him at his own pace; but no. Of course right when he was in the middle of something interesting he had to demand something of him; push his body into action immediately. His feet were sweeping down the staircase before he realized it, Dave growled and forced himself to stop.

**Now, Dave.**

Suddenly his mind was fogging over, his thoughts turning into nothing but meaningless rambles, coming and going sluggishly. Dave stumbled off the stairs and was soon taking off out of the mansion. The blonde pushed his shades back onto their place, resting on his features and glided outside. It didn't take long to reach the apartment again, especially since his mind was hazy, his movements were swift and smooth, sliding through the streets and up the stairs to their apartment. He strode into the apartment as his thoughts began to clear, no longer ringing and echoing with Dirk's voice.

He shut the door quietly, raking a glare over the area quickly and quipping, "Bro?" Dave pushes his sneakers off and padded further into the apartment. Lately Dirk had been cleaning, most likely to impress Jake. It was unlikely though, Dave grimaced; it was more likely so they'd have more variety of places to screw when Dave was out of the house. The thought made him shudder as he passed through the kitchen and wound his way to the back room where Dirk usually fiddled with his puppets and robotic shit. Dave could never made heads or tails of the clutter in the room, usually 'mistaking' it all for garbage. His brother would just give him a pointed stare before retorting back that without his tinkering and without all this 'weird shit' he wouldn't have a roof over his head and food to stuff his face with.

"Bro?" Dave repeated as he rapped a knuckle against the door. There was a muffled reply from within as the blonde sighed, pushing open the door and crossing the threshold. "What did you want?"

Dirk was situated at his desk, still littered with metal trinkets and a few puppets dangling off the edge. The man himself was much taller than Dave, with large, pointed shades shielding his eyes. Dirk's hair was currently messy, damp still from a shower and was wearing his usual lazy clothes, a black wife beater with some loose fitting jeans. "I have some interesting news, lil bro." Dirk rumbled out jostling a few papers in his hand.

"What?" Dave deadpanned, subtly glancing around and noticing that not only had Jake vacated but had left behind a few traces of his presence there. The thick cord necklace with large animal teeth strung through it was resting on the nightstand next to his watch. It sent a small sting through his stomach at the sight of it; usually his shades sat there after coming in to sleep by his brother the night prior.

The sound of Dirk patting his lap made Dave return his gaze to his brother's smirk. He leaned back a bit and setting some papers aside that he had been holding. There was no real hesitation as Dave strode over and relaxed onto Dirk's lap. It had been a while since the brother's had held each other in a sweet embrace, a tangle of limbs and warmth. Dave curled up unconsciously on his lap, nuzzling the crook of his elder brother's neck, breathing in the musky scent of him. "We're on the hunt for the last pureblood." The man's eyes glimmered through the tinted shades on his face. Unlike Dave, his eyes were bright amber, almost brown where the color met white. "I think you know what that means." Dirk smirked wider, jabbing a thumb to the papers on the desk. Curiously, the blonde sat up slightly in his lap, looking just over the rim of his shades to the pages. They held a long wall of text with a few bolded words here and there, but it wasn't any of the fine print that caught his eye. Rather, it was the title at the top, two words that sent a thrill down his spine.

Pureblood vampire.

After a moment Dave's eyebrows knit together, vampires were definitely an odd task to be assigned with. There used to be a plethora of vampires in their area, one of the largest clans in the nation. It had been a number of years ago, before Dave started working with Dirk. He had told him all about it though; it was a large raid on the hive where they would gather often. That was around the time when Dave dreamed to be just like his brother, fighting the paranormal and being an overall badass. Of course, Dave had already grown out of that phase, now dreaming of his own future, far away from any sort of paranormal attractions. But it seemed as though, for now at least, he was stuck with Dirk to catch and destroy whatever they were assigned. They'd never been assigned to a vampire before though, for obvious reason, so being suddenly tasked to one was very odd. More importantly, it was a pureblood vampire. Dave wasn't an expert on vampires, obviously there wasn't a need to know about them, but he knew purebloods were bad news. A pureblood vampire was royalty to its clan, not a drop of human blood in their veins. Due to their high status and entirely vampire heritage those happened to be the most powerful vampires out there.

Dirk chuckled, low and dark, drawing Dave from his thoughts, "Don't tell me you didn't hear the rumors of the vampire prince." His eyes were narrowed and had an evil glint to them, "He's the last of his kind, hidden away by the vampire king's dying wish. Such a tragic story, orphaned by his father and his entire race at a young age." He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. "But not to worry, the agency sounds like they'll give him a nice home. I'm guessing it's a collector somewhere, probably let him bunk with some dust bunnies and flop some enemies in at him to feed on." Dirk mused before wetting his lips and turning back to Dave, "So? You ready to go vampire hunting?"

The younger party took a moment to think, knowing he really had no choice but to agree and sighed. The amber eyed man smiled slightly and moved a hand to rub Dave's back, the leather of his glove gliding over the fabric. "Yeah, I guess I'm in." Dave murmured against his skin as his pale lashes fluttered closed, spiraling into a blissful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Jaaaaaaake." John whined, a pout already puckering his features. The boy was currently slung over his caretakers back, arms lazily looped around his neck and his legs curled around his waist, crossing at the ankle to hold on. His chin rested on Jake's shoulder, huffing slightly and jostling his hips to get his protector's attention again. It was the average lazy Saturday, somewhere around two or three o clock. The sun hung languidly in the sky, accompanied by a few lazy clouds. "Why do you even have to do this? It's so boring..."

Jake paused and glanced back at the younger party, his shoulders shook as he laughed, turning back to his work. "I do it so you don't starve, so don't fuss." The raven haired man set aside a few pouches of blood, scribbling down a few things onto a notepad before gathering up the thick, plastic bags and returning them to the freezer. Every fortnight Jake made a point to count out how many blood bags there were in the mansion to know whether he needed to snag a few more for John or not. It was beginning to get difficult keeping up with the young vampire as his appetite grew and his tastes began to change. Jake was patient though, even when John grew snappy from hunger and would toss away the bottle, stating the blood tasted sour. With a sigh he would change out the type of blood and try to get John to accept it. Eventually John would settle in with a bottle and guzzle down the crimson within it, a bit dribbling out onto his chin. Jake knew that the reason John was becoming so fickle wasn't what he was eating at all or any gnawing hunger. It was an extremely sticky situation, one he always knew he'd have to sort out when he got old enough; it seemed as though sixteen would be the age he'd start to grovel for a panacea.

"But it's taking forever..." John groaned and pushed his nose back into the fabric of Jake's vest. "You promised we'd watch a movie!" A pang of guilt pushed through Jake at the recollection of the promise he had indeed made the kind creature hanging on his back. It was true that the last time he had slipped away from John, on his way to visit Dirk, that as the vampire was drifting to sleep he rolled himself into enough consciousness to make Jake promise to watch a movie with him next time he was there. It was a tradition that he had started to bring over a few DVDs and play a few on the dusty TV in John's room. Whenever Jake was out John spent most of his time in his room watching movies over and over then shuffling around the mansion to pass the time. The boy was trapped in a rut of leisure time, stuck cooped up in his room waiting for the only soul he ever got to see to visit him again. The days were desultory for John and the evenings with his caretaker were evanescent. It made Jake incredibly guilty to know he left him so alone for so many extended periods of time, but he was obligated to go to work and he did fancy sleeping in his own bed in his apartment sometimes.

Jake sighed, "I know, and we will, just give me a tic to put these away." On his back he could feel the boy let out a puff of air and nuzzle further into his vest.

As the emerald eyed man tucked away a few more bags, he glanced back at the mess of raven curls piled on his shoulder. A small smile tugged at his lips, noting how childish John could seen even when he was edging closer and closer towards the end of his teen years. There were so many moments when Jake wished he could just take the boy outside, let him wander around the city and take a breath of the outside air. To be honest, he had been considering moving John to his apartment to simplify things. No longer have to continuously journey between his apartment, the mansion and Dirk's apartment. Perhaps he could even bring him over to Dirk's with him; he did have a younger sibling around John's age. The thought made him smile a bit, giving John space to grow himself, develop relations with his lover and his sibling. Having no other family of his own, it'd mean a lot to Jake to see John grow more socially, even if he was the direct reason John didn't have any outside relationships.

"Someone came in yesterday," The azure eyed boy mumbled into his vest, the fabric soaking up his words as they slipped casually off his lips.

Jake sighed, "Another child?" he groaned a bit, teens and kids were always eager to bound up to the door to get a peek in the 'haunted' mansion. After all the rumors of the massacre that took place at the house, no one could resist stopping by, peeking in as furtively as they could. It was always so worrisome to Jake, having so many people breaking into the house where John was so vulnerable inside.

Behind him the boy went a bit tense, "I think so...but they smelled a lot different," John mumbled, his voice was hesitant, sticking in his throat slightly.

Emerald gazes shifted to where the boy was perched, "How so?" he asked, studying the light that bounced off of John's tousled curls, swirling over where he had his face hiding in his vest.

The movement was slightly awkward when he pushed his shoulders up; "They smelled really good," John worried at his lip, face still tucked into the folded fabric clinging to Jake's neck and shoulder. "It was weird,"

Jake paused for a moment, glancing down at the notepad in front of him before shrugging. "Perhaps they just had a nice bath before peeping in on you?" The raven haired man turned from the counter and started out of the kitchen, idly reaching a hand up to ruffle John's hair. "I'm sure it's nothing to fret over."

Behind him John laughed a bit, "Yeah you're right." He smiled into his vest as he shook off the doubt that clung in his gut. "So are we going to go watch a movie now?" He chirped, lifting his head and sitting his chin down on his shoulder. "Hey, could that be my Birthday present, just a day of movies?" John cocked his head, readjusting his arms around Jake's shoulders as he made his way towards the staircase.

To be honest Jake wasn't great with dates; well, numbers in general could get messy in his head, along with names, faces and a lot of other things. But even so, he hadn't forgotten John's Birthday; even when the days prior to it were long and began to conflate into a monotonous rhythm of work, John and Dirk; the rapidly oncoming date never stopped disquieting him. He knew sixteen was a focal age for a vampire of his ranking; it was at that age that John would have been crowned prince of his clan. Not only that though, but John would begin to truly develop, his tastes would adjust, he'd begin to require more to drink, his father once mentioned that John would have exceptional power. Had he been raised among his clan with his father, this all would have been a joyous time, to see him grow into the potent leader he was meant to be. Unfortunately, he wasn't with his father.

Jake pushed the thoughts away; he didn't need to dwell on such foreboding thoughts when John was still the same dulcet kid he always was. After all, it wasn't like he was personally in any danger. It was some time ago that John's father had explained to him why Jake was an ideal candidate to be his son's guardian should he perish. Apparently, there are three kinds of humans to a vampire. There are the Alphas, a human who carries a very ethereal scent, generally vampires avoid feeding from humans in this category; as their blood is very tart and bitter. Next was a Beta, a Beta has a very sweet, pleasing scent about them, a very popular target for feeding. Betas are usually physically smaller than Alphas, therefore much easier to hunt. Their blood is known for its creamy taste, a very rich, velvety flavor that is highly sought after. The final grouping was the Omega. The Omega was never really a group to begin, as it was a single human. An Omega is a very specific person that had a very distinct scent, but only to a certain vampire. This person could be classified in either field to any other vampire, Alpha or Beta, yet to one certain vampire it is an Omega. The Omega is the highest prize for any vampire, finding their Omega is often seen as an extremely good omen. Most vampires however never do find their Omega, as it is across the world or not even born entirely. In addition to the taste of the different groups, there are differences in how the human will physically react to the feeding. For Alphas, feeding is a very painful and uncomfortable experience; the venom that is injected into the human will be rejected by their body and will not calm them as it does for others. Betas however, it's a very numb feeling, the sensation almost calming with minimal discomfort, sometimes Betas don't even remember it when its over. As for Omegas, feeding can be very relaxing, occasionally even physically pleasurable. Contrary to the other groups, after feeding Omegas aren't weary, often times they are very energized afterward due to the way their bodies react to the venom.

A common misconception, his father had explained, was that vampires went from human to human, feeding and killing them. It was true that in certain clans it was tradition to murder the human they chose to feed on, but it was often frowned upon. John's clan was a very civilized group and instead chose a single human to feed from, generally settling for a Beta without much effort put into finding their Omega; most viewing it as a fruitless effort. The vampires of his clan would simply drink small amounts from their chosen human, only taking enough to survive while keeping the human alive.

His father had explained that Jake was an Alpha, a very unappealing human that John would only settle for if he was truly starving. So even if John would need more blood, perhaps different types and might need to adjust to new found abilities or power; Jake could handle that, he'd handled him for years anyway.

"You just want to watch films?" He asked him, glancing over his shoulder before looking back down at the stairs as he began to pad his way to John's room.

The dust flittering through the air in the rays of sun that filtered through the small cracks of the curtains in his bedroom danced as the pair entered. As Jake glanced over the room he began to take note of how desolate it seemed, with dust clinging to the furniture and the carpet a dull and trampled gray. The mansion was once a beautiful place, bustling with a steady hum of life. It pushed a sudden gloomy feeling through him as he looked over the poignant space. Perhaps he should move John to his apartment, treat him more like a normal teenager. After all, he truly was normal; he just had a bit of an odd diet. It wasn't like he was breaking any laws saying he couldn't drink blood. Anyway wasn't there that Hannibal character everyone loved? He quite literally ate people; Jake concluded from that that John's dietary habits were perfectly fine.

The boy shrugged as Jake sat down on the bed, letting him crawl off his back and flop back across the bed. John sprawled over the duvet, "It sounds like fun to me. Did you have something else in mind?"

With a quick scoot up onto the mattress he laid back beside the younger party, staring up at the dim ceiling overhead. "Perhaps you could come live at my apartment." Jake blurted, not quite processing the words were coming out of his mouth, "You haven't been outside in a donkey's year, so why not? You're old enough to know what's right and wrong. It could be your Birthday present, a day out to town and a new place to settle." Jake's voice was steady through the phrase, his tone almost light and casual as the words pushed off his lips.

The weight of his suggestion settled in the space between them, a silence falling in with it. The air in the room was stale, muddled with the stuffy scent of moth balls and dust. Years and years of being cooped up, held hostage in the looming mansion settled up on the hill and suddenly, a way out. It left John reeling, why was he suddenly all for the idea of letting him outside? Did his father wish for him to be kept safe? It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same times, the thought of being free. To look up to the sky and see endless azure and fluffy white clouds, to breathe in the fresh, crisp air that ebbed and flowed outside, to see all the bright faces of the people, the animals that pranced along the street; to be free. A surge of adrenaline filled his chest, yet he stayed where he was, frozen; swimming in a flood of thoughts and emotions.

John was staring up at the ceiling, his heart thumping raggedly in his chest. His mouth was flopping open but no sound would leave his throat, his tongue refusing to curl to his whims. Before John could form any words, his limbs launched into action and he was straddling Jake, hugging him tightly. The grin on his face could have practically broken the young vampire's face, his eyes lighting up with ebullience, "Are you serious?" He pushed out past his beam.

Jake only nodded as a smile tugged at his features. "Of course," He had barely got the phrase out before John was hugging him again, nuzzling his face into his chest and laughing. "I'll take this as a yes," Still smiling down at him, Jake carded his fingers through John's hair and rustled the curls, "I'll have to prepare you a room so it might be a while before you move in. Just make sure you're all packed up for when the time does come."

Below him John barely heard a word, far too thrilled to hear anything besides his heartbeat and Jake's under his cheek. The fabric of his vest was gentle against his face as he nuzzled against it affectionately, savoring the feel of Jake's hand tangled up in his curls. It was such a halcyon feeling compared to the rest of his languid daytime activities. John drank up the feeling as more adrenaline flooded his system as he realized he'd be able to be with Jake even more by moving. The mansion carried lots of sentimental value and tender memories, but to be frank, John was happy to leave the gloomy plot. After living there for so long, it would be nice to get a taste of somewhere different. Sometimes he wondered if that was how Repunzel felt, cooped up in her tower as he was in his mansion. But he shook away the thought when he reminded himself of his Prince Charming that had come to rescue him from his tower and whisk him away. That was a rather girly thought, but John was far past caring, too wrapped up in the warmth against him.

He didn't even try to fight the blush that dusted his cheeks when Jake pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

* * *

Alright, I promised a short chapter with Windicuffs, so here you are. This is probably a horrible time to update this, ya know, a holiday. But whatever, happy 4th of July! I always post updates to my Tumblr first, I'm shed-the-skins, and if you don't want to see all of my crap on your dash, then just track the tag HuntersAU!

Oh and guys I really like comments and messages, like they seriously make my day and motivate me beyond belief.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Tuesday. Tuesdays were usually terribly uneventful at the Strider house, just another day to look out at the hazy clouds, blotting out the sun in those leisure, idle moments of the day. Lately Dirk had been lazing around more than usual, slumping into piles of puppets languidly. Business was going well, smuppets still selling at a boringly average pace. Dave had been getting irritated with his brother, watching him shuffle along the apartment in his pajamas, complaining about almost anything he could. He knew it was because he hadn't seen Jake for over a week; but it was getting ridiculous. Of course, Dave didn't mind Dirk draping himself over his shoulders, tugging him out of his chair and back to hold him tightly on the couch. Even if he knew it was because he wanted physical contact, he didn't mind nuzzling under his chin and hugging him in return. Sometimes it was frustrating though, knowing that ever since Jake showed up that Dirk was beginning to get addicted to the intimate touches and contact. Prior to him, a fling once and a while wasn't uncommon, but afterward Dirk was sated, only touching Dave when necessary or after a night terror. Ever since Jake though, his brother had become so much more dependant on contact. Dave could almost conclude it a benefit, being touched and showered with affection by his brother, but it truly wasn't. mainly because, when Jake was around, the contact was limited with Dave again, so much more strict and sticky touches when they did happen. But when the emerald eyed man wasn't present, Dave was just a replacement.

But on that particular Tuesday, as the clouds began to knit together into a foreboding inky color, Dirk was far too preoccupied to think about smuppets, Dave or much anything else. Well, he was thinking a bit on how wonderful the sound his boyfriend just made was.

Jake was straddling Dirk, hands trailing up his chest and looping around his neck. The couch sank a bit with their weight as the TV droned on, forgotten behind them. Their lips clashed fervently, pushing and clawing at each other, trying desperately to get closer. Jake's hands left burns down his pale skin as he dragged his palms over the thin fabric of his shirt, finally pushing his fingers to tangle in his hair. The movement he made, that push and twist of his hips, grinding into Dirk's lower stomach, the blonde could only groan and nip at his lips. A low sound slipped through Jake's mouth as he pulled away slightly, letting their foreheads meet, "It's been way too long, Strider," he murmured, their lips brushing as he did. His breath was minty, no doubt from the gum he was chewing earlier, and his lips tasted of something crisp. Jake's hands were already moving back down his chest, sending shudders down Dirk's spine.

He groaned softly as a low growl rumbled back in his throat, "Whose fault is that now?" A coy smirk tugged at his features. His hands, so pale and cracked, his knuckles like dragon's scales, and fingers, slender and riddled with small cuts and scraps; wrapped around his hips and tugged him forward, being less than gentle. Jake let out a soft noise, always relishing when he was rough with him. "Never mind, just shut up, I missed you." Dirk licked his lips and moved in again to capture Jake's mouth.

The sound that escaped through the kiss was low and breathless as he nipped at his lips, Jake's hands traveling over him again. Being quiet was always a challenge for Jake, especially when Dirk seemed to have memorized every way to make him squirm. It would have been unfair had he not taken note of how to get similar reactions out of Dirk. With a quick swipe of his tongue over the back of the blonde's teeth he pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips as he nuzzled down to his shoulder, panting into his ear.  
Dirk hissed out a gasp, a slight shudder working down him as Jake sucked his earlobe into his mouth, nibbling a bit at the pierced flesh. His hands tightened on his hips, his tongue darting out to lick at his suddenly dry lips. "Dammit, English," He growled out, pushing his hands up and under his shirt to trail up his spine.

A chuckle fell from his lips as he nuzzled against his ear, pulling his lips up against the shell of his ear again to murmur, "Problems?" Dirk only replied by dragging his nails down the smooth, sun kissed skin of his back, drawing a moan from Jake.

Dirk opened his mouth to rumble something snarky back in reply, but movement at the doorway caught his attention. The blonde had already rolled his eyes before looking over at Dave glaring from the threshold to his bedroom. "Seriously?" He deadpanned, his red gaze already settling on Dirk with a thick helping of frustration.

Jake's cheeks colored quickly as he scrambled off of him, scratching the back of his head bashfully. "Oh golly, sorry about that, mate." His accent was grating on Dave's ears, the other brother too busy staring the smaller down. Jake was never an intuitive one. Perhaps that was why he continued his babbling on, apologizes and excuses to Dave.

"What do you even want, lil man?" Dirk lounged back into the couch, cutting off Jake as he slung an arm over his shoulders.

Dave crossed his arms over his chest, he was wearing his favourite hoodie again, a deep crimson with a pixilated disc on the back. Around his neck the thin cord necklace was tight against his skin, a small metal heart charm dangling on a puny ring. "I need a ride to the parlor, Porrim wants to show me something." He pulled a hand through his hair and shoved it back in his pocket, shuffling a step back casually.

Dirk didn't miss the movement and nodded, letting out a sigh and pulling out his phone. "Yeah, my gig is in an hour too, they'll want my help setting up anyway." He pulled himself off of the couch and rolled his shoulders, hearing a few satisfactory pops. "Sorry, babe, maybe tomorrow?" His gaze moved back to Jake as the man stood, straightening his jacket and glancing towards the door.

"Actually I wanted to talk about tomorrow. My old family friend's lad is staying with me for a while, he's around Dave's age and he isn't real familiar with all this city business. So naturally I thought perhaps you two you fancy some tea tomorrow evening, you know you and he could get to know each other?" His eyes were bright as he looked up at Dirk, before turning and smiling brilliantly at freckled blonde in the doorway, "Yeah?"

A silence crawled in as Dave reeled, not wanting anything to do with Jake in the first place. Going over to the man's apartment might as well have been synonymous with torture, but being expected to suddenly be buddy-buddy with some kid? Hell no. It had always been a pet peeve of his, when one of his friends at the tattoo parlor tried to introduce him to people; advertising them as the same age as him. The age wasn't a lie, but that didn't change a thing, the only thing they had in common was the number of years they'd been living. Not how they'd lived them, how they planned to live them, how they thought about the world they'd be inhabiting for the past 17 years. Every time one of them would start with a lazy roll of the tongue, that first line of 'so I know this guy...' that frustration would kick start in his veins. Perhaps Dave would have handled it better had it not come topped off with an accent and winning smile. There was a chance he wouldn't have started immediately rolling through excuses of why not to go as soon as he had processed what was going on.

Dirk smiled a bit at him, before turning his gaze to his brother. There was something in his eyes, tucked away behind those shades; something smug. It put the blonde on edge as he set his jaw, already formulating a lie to weasel himself out of the play date.

"That sounds like a plan then." Dirk said, his words weren't tinged with anything that Jake would notice, nothing that he'd ever question. But Dave could hear it, like a bird shrieking into his ear, that malice laced into his words. Even if he did make an excuse, valid or otherwise, there would be no weaseling out of it. Dave wasn't sure what he did to piss Dirk off, but whatever he did, this was his punishment. Perhaps it was dropping in during their make out session, even if it wasn't his fault that there were demons in the area. No, perhaps he just wanted to bother Dave any way he could; he wouldn't doubt it in the slightest. No matter the motive though, he knew he was doomed to go.

Despite the universal law of Tuesdays being boring, Dave supposed there was nothing said about Wednesdays. Even as he let his mind be overridden, filled to the brim with his brother and spilling over into his limbs; like a pawn in a brutal game as they fought a couple of reckless demons. Dave didn't let it go, didn't loosen his grip on the dread within his stomach, even though he was only vaguely conscious, his sight a diaphanous ashen gray, like an old movie flickering through his mind, his body not feeling as though it were even moving. Even if Dirk could force him into going to the ridiculous play date, he wouldn't go with a smile. Not that he would ever make the forbearance evident in his expression or leaking out into the way he strode. Oh no, he'd handle it with grace; just layered behind a few stony masks of false emotion and perhaps a rusty glare here and there behind his shades.

Tuesday was as boring as ever, with the demons soon tied tightly and flopped over unconscious in the corner of an abandoned building somewhere in the city. But somewhere in the back of Dave's mind, as his thoughts became slurred as he lost his grip on the world and felt himself tumbling into unconsciousness as Dirk's control receded, he could only wonder if Wednesday would be more interesting.

Wednesday was taking its time to arrive though, and Tuesday was still lingering in the air at Jake's apartment. John had lost track of time as the days slipped past, and soon he found himself in his caretaker's abode. It was all so terrifying, the new sounds, scents and sights. Looking outside, through a clear, finely cleaned glass pane; out to a city that rolled over the hills and dominated the land. The colors and lights that pierced the night sky, the spires of buildings that prodded at the heavens belly; it left him breathless in awe. It was so different from the mansion, so overwhelming and exhilarating. John could open up the window and take a deep breath; the air was crisp and smelled of spring's gentle breath. The rumble of cars and people's voices littered the space, a never ceasing hum of life. Sometimes John frowned at it, and wished for the quiet of the mansion, but shook his head at it when he caught a whiff of Jake's scent on the furniture.  
Jake never really smelled particularly good, for hunting anyway, but he did smell very nice as far as a human goes. The musky scent always soothed John with the familiarity, filling him with a sense of safety and security. When he received the sweatshirt for his Birthday roughly three years prior from him, he had refused to wear any other jackets. The slightest whiff of his scent when he left was enough, that ethereal gasp of his scent like petrichor and trees. The smell had long since been replaced by his own, but he still wore the threadbare gray sweatshirt, the spades symbol in the center fraying somewhat. Once the fabric was soft and comfortable, warm against his flesh, but by then it was worn thin, a bit scratchy and covered in a coat of lint balls along the sleeves and sides.

The clock read somewhere around nine at night, the sun was beginning to lazily slide below the horizon, already blotted out by a few of the buildings. Pushed aside by their shadows the light fell across the city in large streaks, the amber light pressed over all the cars and people. Jake had left a few hours ago to do something or another, leaving the boy in the apartment alone. John was alright with it, after all, his caretaker had been kind enough to give him a room in his apartment, and even so courteous as to take a few days off of work to make sure he was settled in.

The apartment wasn't how John had imagined it, not a cozy cave filled with movies and guns. Instead, it was a fairly large apartment with a comfortable leather couch and large TV in the center of the main room. The guest room had been converted into John's room, a simple room with a dusty desktop computer within. Jake had told him he was free to use the computer, he had long since purchased a laptop for himself and no longer had a use for the desktop. The poor thing could barely run, making a loud buzzing noise whenever the monitor was turned on and whirring that likely sounded like death to any other machine would begin to shriek out from the tower whenever it was booted up. But John didn't mind, he rather liked the dusty old desktop, no matter how slow it was it was fascinating. It had a few games on it and an old chat client called Pesterchum, Jake told him he was free to start a new account with it and use it if he made some friends. John only shrugged; it looked kind of lame, besides he didn't have any friends.

He had been debating on logging onto the computer and playing around some, or watching a movie till Jake returned home. The apartment was silent, the sound of cars rumbling by as John moved to investigate the DVD collection. Just as he had crouched down though, a sudden wave of fatigue swept over him. It drained his energy and left him laden with lethargy, like weights clinging to his limbs and tugging them down with his consciousness. John blinked thickly and fought off the darkness clawing at his vision and struggled to his feet. For a moment he felt everything suddenly come into focus, the world painfully detailed and vivid, all colors and sounds and scents and all of it buzzing and moving constantly, infuriatingly relentless. His head throbbed and his feet caught on each other, sending him sprawling over the ground.

The impact was numb, hardly even there when he hit the ground, the pain a dull throb resounding through his limbs. A small groan left his lips as he cracked an eye open, the world fuzzy this time, everything a hazy blur smeared over his eyes. John pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his arms shaking, trembling and weak as he desperately tried to peel himself off the floor. It felt as though gravity were suddenly intensified, pounding onto his back and beating him back down to the hard wood. A hand was in his hair, holding his head up, but he hardly felt it, let alone realized it was his.

Once he had fully acknowledged his appendage as his he began to notice how warm his forehead felt. Actually, now he that he began to think about it, his whole body was hot. Not just hot, no that wasn't even close. John let out a strangled noise of pain as the fire ripped through his body, like poison in his veins, it clawed and tore just under his skin. Something between his ribcage was gurgling, snarling at him loudly.  
John blinked heavily again and tried to get to his feet again, clawing at the couch to help himself to his feet. Standing felt precarious, he felt far too tall, practically towering over everything in the apartment as he took a dizzy step forward. The hand at his head hadn't moved, still trying to hold the world still. Before he could take another step though, his stomach was lurching and pain was searing in his abdomen.

With another fold of his stomach John was stumbling towards the bathroom. His steps were clumsy, his head still swimming around as the world danced around him, tugging on his vision and dragging his thoughts into meaningless slurs within his head. Everything burned, each step like walking over an inferno, yet the flooring was far too cold against his searing flesh.

By the time he was leaning over the counter of the bathroom, John's eyes were closed and for a moment he was panicking. His bearings felt all wrong, the scents were too foreign, the tiles weren't right, but the overriding smell of Jake seemed to soothe him back to his senses. But only for a lingering moment did the scent calm him as he stared down at the grey flecked countertop he was gripping so tightly. The light was dim in the bathroom, a small florescent light that flickered a bit; yet still far too bright for John. As the light flickered he flinched, pressing his eyes shut and immediately regretting the sudden movement.

For a few beats he kept his eyes shut, letting his body sway with the erratic twirl of the world. By the time he was cracking his eyes open, everything was doubling before correcting itself with another blink. His gaze trailed up from the sink to the mirror, the carefully cleaned glass displaying the picture of a pasty white boy, his cheeks lit up a bright, rosy red. His hair was plastered over his forehead, sweat beading over his face and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath the folds of his sweatshirt hood. His lips were dry, chapped and parted through his pants, two protruding teeth tapered to a point peeking just into view. For a moment John struggled to believe it was actually him.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen his eyes such a dark, _bloody _crimson.

Before he could even try to make heads or tails of the situation, his stomach lurched, bending him over the sink and forcing up everything. It burned in his throat as he felt it swirl back in his mouth, vile and bitter. John didn't bother fighting it, letting his stomach heave up all its contents and splatter into the sink, dying it a diluted scarlet. Everything burned and smelled like blood and blackness was dotting his vision again as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the heel of his hand.

By the time his stomach had pushed out all it had within it, John was feeling dizzier than ever. His body felt far too heavy, his limbs much too weak to support himself. Yet even through the dazzling spin of the apartment around him, he managed to shuffle out to the living room, finding the couch as the smooth leather bumped against his thigh. Without a second thought John had clawed himself onto the furniture, curling into the cushion and crossing his arms to settle into a ball.

His head was still throbbing and everything smelled like blood. On a normal occasion he might have been alright with that, as it tended to smell much sweeter to him than the average human. However, for once it smelled revolting, musty and putrid. He buried his nose into his sweatshirt in a vain attempt to block out the scent, attempt to get a whiff of Jake.

Nothing was working though, it all smelled like bloody murder and rotting meat. His head was still swimming and his consciousness was wavering. John swallowed, his throat suddenly filled with cotton and his tongue thick in his mouth. Somewhere in his abdomen his stomach was growling, demanding food that John knew for a fact he didn't want or have. The vile taste in his mouth stung a bit, his throat still burning and his body still feeling on fire. John couldn't push away the tears that slipped from his eyes quietly, dribbling down his cheeks and mingling with the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Everything was hurting and he didn't have a clue what to do.

Another twist of his stomach made him hug himself tighter, making a small panicked sound now, tinged with the pathetic whimper of pain. John pressed his forehead to his knees, curling up tighter and letting out a few more choked sobs.

He wished Jake would come home.

* * *

Hopefully this didn't take too long, and sorry this is kinda short too. I apologize if there's any errors as always. uvu Anyway, JohnDave is coming, I swear, for now take the DirkJake and embrace it.  
I really like feedback guys, like really QuQ If you really wanna make my day you should totally message me on Tumblr, I'm shed-the-skins. I always post updates there first, and if you don't want me to be clogging up your dash you can go ahead and track the tag 'huntersau'

Phew, as always, thanks for reading!


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